Vimes blinked. He was standing in the streets of Ankh-Morpork or more accurately a place that vaguely resembled the streets of Ankh-Morpork. Everything was positioned just as Vimes remembered it, but this...
It was grey and the shadows stood out in stark detail. The brickwork looked transparent and unfinished where the dim light of the streetlamps clung to the walls. His city as a whole was colorful only in the figurative sense of the word, but this place had no colors at all. The night was eerily quiet. The ambient sounds of the city had disappeared along with all its inhabitants.
Those damn wizards! They're always poking holes in reality!
Vimes knew that with magic nothing was to be taken for granted. Even the most basic concepts could be turned upside down. He always said that no matter what there is always the possibility that you are dead wrong. He mentally broadened this idea temporarily to include absolutely anything on the basis that wizards rarely get things right.
Vimes took a hesitant step forward just in case the street really wasn't there. In a place like this, you couldn't trust your own eyes. The cobbles seemed secure enough, but Vimes paused before moving again. This really wasn't the kind of thing that wizards would do.
He remembered being in the library with the Patrician before this all started. He was probably just hallucinating. That juice he drank with breakfast did taste a bit off so it wasn't so farfetched an idea that he could be passed out on his desk. Stranger things had happened, but if he were still in the library, then he should be able to feel where he was, just like the furniture is still there in a dark room but you don't see it until you've stubbed your toe and knocked over a lamp.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember where things were placed in the library, but his mind told him otherwise.
I'm on Treacle Mine Road past the Misbegot Bridge.
He tried again, but his feet insisted he wasn't anywhere near his house and that he had better stop asking or they would find a way to actually make him kick himself.
And that was when the screams started.
The path toward the noise lit up in sharp detail. Vimes knew the way instinctively. He noticed in passing how little effort it took to run. Years of smoking had scarred his lungs making long chases hard, but here, in this world of bright shadows, breathing only existed out of habit.
He turned the corner onto Gleem Street and skidded to a stop.
"Bloody Hell!"
A mass of pure light sat writhing and oozing on the intersection. The vague shapes of figures bubbled to the surface and submerged again in a frantic boil. Each one seemed to be fighting to get to the middle.
He jogged up to the edge of the… what was it? A creature? Maybe a demon plant or something? Vimes returned to the wizard explanation, just because wizards love letting things out from other dimensions.
The screaming was coming from the center of the frenzied bodies. Vimes glanced around, came to a decision, and drew his sword. He gave the thing a tentative poke. The surface yielded without complaint. He stepped carefully into the glowing white mass.
Sound exploded around him.
The screams were louder inside and mixed with the clamor of hundreds of frantic voices trying to be heard above the throng. Vimes had been in places like this. In a crowd, panic and anger heightened all emotions. People didn't know what to do and they struck out against each other. Rational thought disappeared. This was the place where policing became a violent game of balancing necessity with morality.
Vimes roughly pushed aside the pale figures. Unrecognizable images flickered in his head as he made his way through the white turmoil. Closer to the center, moving became a challenge. It was like walking in a heavy wind. Vimes noticed a darker shape in the middle of the blindingly bright storm. He reached out and grabbed it.
Suddenly the riot dissolved. The figures broke into thin lengths of ribbon and string that darted through the air trying to find alleyways and crevasses to escape down. In a second, all that was left was a rapidly fading mist and unnatural silence.
The screams had stopped. Vimes knew even before he looked that he had found the Patrician.
Sybil removed her fingers from her ears as Willikins entered the library with Young Sam.
"Was the screaming intentional, Lady Sybil?" asked Willikins. He had been the Ramkin family butler for quite some time and knew that aristocrats had unusual hobbies.
"No, it certainly wasn't." Lady Sybil replied, "I don't even know what this is!"
Willikins inspected the two bodies. He looked at Sybil with a suspiciously blank expression.
"Don't look at me like that; they were like this before I got here!"
"Indeed." Willikins was having difficulty forming a rational explanation for this situation that did not involve traumatizing activities.
Sybil took a second to glare at Willikins. She squared her jaw and looked down at the two men on the floor.
"This is serious, Willikins. Something catastrophic must be happening."
Sybil bent down and picked up Young Sam. She turned her head and locked her eyes on Willikins.
"He asked for help."
Willikins raised an eyebrow.
"Surely your husband has asked you to help him before…"
"I meant Havelock."
Willikins' eyes widened in shock.
"I thought it was odd for Havelock to make a social call. I believe he may have come here knowing this would happen. I don't even know how long it will last. He said he was going to sleep. A lot can happen in eight hours."
Sybil placed a hand on her husband's forehead then recoiled as the strength in her body started being absorbed.
"They both looked so frightened. Havelock never trusts anyone and he would certainly never overtly ask for help like he did. Something seriously wrong must have happened to him. Do you think Rufus knows anything?"
"I believe Vetinari's clerk will be of little help my lady." Willikins replied "The Patrician would not have come here otherwise."
Willikins walked to the window and closed the fine silk curtains. They were so delicate that the light in the room barely darkened at all since they were made for privacy when reading. It would be counterproductive to have blackout curtains in a library.
"He must know something," said Sybil. A plan of action was forming in her head. She scowled at the Patrician with half a mind to wake him up and force him to start explaining things.
"I advise caution. Drumknott may very well be the cause of this. We cannot risk exposure until we know more about what has happened."
"Then I won't be able to approach Rufus about this until the rumor spreads. It's not prudent to ask about something before you should know about it."
"And what will you do about His Grace's disappearance?" Willikins asked. "Or yours, My Lady? All three of you disappearing at the same time would be highly suspicious."
Sybil sighed in frustration. A sudden run in with the Patrician was the last thing she needed today.
"I'll have to continue with the schedule I already had planned for the day."
"And Sir Samuel?"
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Vimes asked.
Vetinari didn't answer. He hadn't shown any sign of life other than a ragged breathing and a blink from his unfocused eyes every few seconds. Vimes groaned in frustration.
"Right, I don't know if you can hear me, sir, but I'm not going to sit around here watching you practice your wet rag impersonation." Vimes prodded the Patrician with his foot. Nothing. He sighed and contemplated just walking away.
He crouched down, picked up the Patrician and carried him over his shoulder.
"I hate this place already."
Willikins left Sybil to deal with the Patrician and Sir Samuel. He had volunteered to cover up Commander Vimes' disappearance. Eight hours wasn't all that long but he would still need the help of the Watch if he had any hope of success. Despite his master's faith in his companions, Willikins never trusted the watchmen. He did, however, trust Dorfl. Golems are inherently reliable.
"This Is Highly Irregular." said Dorfl, "I Will Need Proof."
"Then, on a purely theoretical stance, what actions might you take to fix the situation?"
"I Would Need A Human, Someone Of The Commander's Build. Then Direct The Body Double To Places Where He Could Be Seen By Many People, But Never Close Enough To Expose The Disguise."
It was a good idea and one that didn't involve complicated plots. Sometimes the simplest plan was the most effective.
"As conjecture only, who would you choose to play the role?" Willikins asked.
"Corporal Ping."
"Who's that?"
"He Is Someone Who Will Not Attract Attention If Absent." Dorfl replied.
Willikins heartily agreed with that precaution.
Lady Sybil called in Dr. Lawn. Vimes had never trusted any other doctor. If anyone managed to get her husband to agree to uncomfortable examinations and still go back for check ups, then they were a small god in her book.
"You seem to have killed the Patrician… This isn't a good start."
"He's not dead!"
Dr. Lawn knelt down.
"So it seems." He said.
"I need you to monitor them until I come back. I'm sorry it's such short notice, but I'll make it worth your while." Sybil said.
Lawn gestured at the two sleeping men on the floor and gave her a disapproving look.
"What if they wake up before then? You'll miss you're chance."
"Chance?"
"I figured you would never be able to convince your husband to try some experimentation without using force and the idea of having the Lord Vetinari under your control must be very exciting." He shrugged "I may be getting on in years but I'd pay good money to see this. Then you can sample the whole table of debauchery in one clean sweep."
It took every ounce of self control Sybil had to stop herself from strangling the doctor. She arranged her face into a mirthless smile and waited for the surging rage to cool to a simmer. She stared at Dr. Lawn with that terrifying mask for far too long than he felt was necessary.
"I would have died if it weren't for you." Sybil said in a sickeningly sweet tone. "You're the only one I can trust to do this, please. Your assistance will not go unrewarded"
It was not a request. There was no room for negotiation in the terms of his surrender. Dr. Lawn covered his eyes with his hand then looked up at Sibyl.
"I have the feeling that I will leave here a very happy man or not at all."
Sibyl picked up Young Sam and handed him to Dr. Lawn. He held the child away from him like a slab of rancid meat.
"Normally I would leave him with Willikins but he's out doing damage control. I would give him to the maid but she's on sick leave. You are simply the only option. I can't risk letting anyone else know. As it is I'm shocked no one has found out already. Absolutely nothing stays secret in this city."
Dr. Lawn looked down his nose at Young Sam and set him on the floor with all the loving care of an alligator. Sibyl had carried down a toy chest for him. The boy wasted no time in pulling out every single one.
"May I remind you that my area of expertise with children usually stops after-"
"Now, I won't be hearing any of that. You said you would look after Sam and Havelock. It can't be that bad to add in Young Sam." Lady Sybil put on her plaster face and stared at the doctor. He recoiled but stood his ground. The peace treaty had already been signed. This was just revenge. Dr. Lawn rallied.
"I did agree to stay here, but that's when I thought I would just be sitting around making sure the reaper doesn't come to Sleeping Beauty and Rip Van Winkle over there. Hey! You can't just le…"
Lady Sibyl was already out the door.
Vimes didn't really know where he was going; he was just following the roads that were slightly more firm looking than the others. Whenever he turned a corner he could almost catch the sight of one of the white figures dashing away.
If this is a hallucination then it's the worst I've ever had. There aren't even any talking flowers or headless cats.
For some reason, he felt as if there should be wooly lambs floating around.
Vimes stopped in front of a smoke shop and grinned like a schoolboy putting a frog in his teacher's desk.
Since none of this is real, I can get those cigars that Sybil hates so much.
He set the Patrician down and opened the door.
He did not go inside. There was no inside to go into. The whole place had that same dull grey transparent look as parts of the buildings outside. It was as if some lazy god had made the city and didn't bother to put textures on the inner walls. He slammed the door shut and turned around.
The white mist was creeping back and the figures were pouring out from alleys and doorways. Instinctively, Vimes reached for his sword but stopped. The weapon had been useless before. He glanced down at Vetinari as if he could explain all this.
The Patrician still lay on the cobbles where Vimes had left him, but his eyes were squeezed shut now and his body had tensed up. Vimes kept his eyes on the approaching figures while he tried to shake Vetinari awake.
Once again, the ghosts frayed apart like threads and were sucked back into their hiding places.
Vimes watched the cracks for signs of movement.
He told me not to let go. Is this what he meant?
"Sir, can you hear me?"
The Patrician slowly relaxed at Vimes' touch but didn't open his eyes. He made a sound somewhere between a wheeze and a chirp.
"What is this place?" Vimes asked. He saw Vetinari's lips move but no words came out. Minutes passed before the Patrician managed to speak.
"Take me… safe…outside." Vetinari blindly grasped Vimes' arm "I need to see them… where they can't see me."
Vimes frowned furiously. This world brushed him the wrong way and the only person who could explain things was the one man who never clarified anything to anyone. It irritated him that he would probably be forced to follow along clueless for the entire length of this trial.
That's not anything new.
Vimes sighed and pulled the Patrician to his feet. The man would have collapsed if Vimes had not been holding him up.
Somewhere you could watch the city but not be seen?
It would have to be a place that was high up. The Opera House was pretty tall. But, it had to be outside? If it was important to stay in the open air, then the Opera House wasn't an option.
There was a clacks tower in Pseudopolis Yard. That would work. Past the first floors, it had stairs on the outside. They would only have to be indoors for a little while.
Vimes could see the tower. He had climbed it many times. It had small balconies at intervals all the way to the top. Maybe the first landing would be high enough. He was not looking forward to climbing all those stairs carrying a half conscious body.